Walking Spartan
by WolfBlade117
Summary: Alone and completely cut off from the UNSC on a strange, post-apocalyptic world, the Master Chief joins with a band of individuals who try to survive. With them, he will learn more about himself and the Librarian's last gift, while the group will learn that there is something far more dangerous than walkers in their midst. Rated for gore and situations later. Pairing undecided.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing that hit him was the pain.

Blinding and staggering, it was like getting hit with a tidal wave.

Forcing a groan back down his throat, he slowly got to his knees and assessed himself. One dislocated shoulder, bruising on his legs and chest, two cracked ribs, one possibly punctured lung, a dozen cuts everywhere he looked.

He'd been through worse.

Looking around at the surrounding trees he assessed his situation.

He was wounded, most likely from some kind of fall, judging by the broken branches above him. No weapons, no armor, only the Navy fatigues on his body. No idea where he was, and no clue how to get back to the ship.

Situation report: Shit.

He rose to his feet and pressed his dislocated shoulder against a tree, suddenly throwing his body weight against it, snapping the shoulder back into place.

He gritted his teeth and pushed the pain down, the way he always did, and began climbing the tree. Gaining a higher vantage point was crucial to finding out where he was.

He rose higher and higher, finally coming out on top of the canopy. Searching around, he found out his target in seconds.

A large city was off to the southeast. The odd thing was, he couldn't hear anything from it.

At this time of day, which was a little before noon, judging by the position of the sun, there should be people bustling around, cars going through streets. He'd learned to trust his augmented hearing after years of having it.

So, if there was nothing...

He shook his head, cutting off his rambling before it could begin. There could be any number of reasons why he couldn't hear anything. Besides the city, he saw what looked like a highway about two hundred feet south.

As he climbed down the tree, his nose was suddenly assaulted by the smell of rotting meat. That immediately became another thing to worry about. He hadn't smelled anything when he'd first woken up.

He jumped down the last few meters, hitting the ground with a dull thud, and looked around, his eyes spotting movement to his left.

His eyes widened.

A man was walking towards him, or rather shuffling. Baggy clothes hung off of his stick-like frame and his skin was pale. Unhealthily so. But that wasn't what drew his attention.

Half the man's face was torn off, his teeth and jawbones showing through the rotting flesh around them.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop where you are," he said, speaking for the first time since he'd woken up.

The man kept walking. He was only ten feet away now.

His eyes narrowed.

No one could just walk around with an injury like that, unless they were so hyped up on painkillers that they couldn't feel anything. But in that case, they wouldn't even be able to move, let alone walk.

"Sir, this is your last warning. Stop right there and don't come any closer."

The man only sped up, his arms coming up and fumbling towards his target, his jaw snapping open and shut.

He grabbed the man's right arm and threw his fist to the point of his elbow, smashing most of the bone to paste and bending the arm almost ninety degrees the wrong way.

The thing, because he could no longer call it a man, didn't even flinch, just brought its working arm up and tried to grab at his prey.

Wrapping one hand around the offending arm and another around the thing's throat, he kept it at bay.

'_How do I always get myself into these situations?'__  
_

He let go of the creature's arm and grabbed the back of it's head, his other hand coming up to rest on what was left of it's cheek, before twisting sharply.

It's neck broke with a sickening _SNAP_ and he let the thing drop to the ground, and he watched as it's jaw kept opening and closing, like it was still trying to bite him.

He gave a small shiver of revulsion and raised his foot, bringing it down on top of the things head. His combat boot split the skull open like an overripe melon, splattering blood and brain matter everywhere.

Shaking his boot around cleared most of it off, and he began walking towards the highway, leaving the rotting corpse behind.

This entire situation was not sitting well with him.

Walking out of the woods and onto the pavement, he frowned. A sign posted on the side of the road read "WELCOME TO ATLANTA".

An four lane highway on both sides. One side was completely clear. That was the side leading into the city. The other was packed with hundreds of cars, whose drivers, by the look of things, had frantically tried to get out of the city.

"What is this?" he muttered. "Those cars are over five hundred years old and yet they look brand new." Everything was so strange. Weird monster men, ancient cars, and Atlanta being a lot smaller than he was taught.

He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes. "Where the hell am I?"

He opened his eyes and turned around to see a horse coming towards him. It's rider was a man wearing a police uniform that looked like something out of an antique store.

Then the man raised a gun that looked even older than his uniform.

"I have only two questions, Mister," he said with a hard tone. "Are you human, and if so, who the hell are you?"

He slowly raised his hands in a non-threatening manner and replied calmly. "To your first question, yes, I am human. To your second, well..." He slowly lowered his hands and then stared directly at the man, who seemed slightly uncomfortable with his piercing gaze. "... you can call me Master Chief."

* * *

First chapter of new story done. Wow, I'm just pumping these out like a...

I'm not going to finish that sentence.

Anyway, terrible jokes aside, I have been doing a _lot_ of new stories lately, and I assure everyone, that I will continue to update most of my current stories. I just ask that you be patient._  
_

Until next time, Wolf out.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Second chapter, prepare to read and hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer, since I missed the one in my last chapter: I don't own Halo or Walking Dead. Both are owned by, surprisingly, their respective owners.

And also, warning. I can get pretty graphic when I want to, so I wouldn't recommend eating when you read this. It may cause you to vomit out your internal organs through your tear ducts.

... yeah. I'm a terrible person.

* * *

Rick Grimes raised an eyebrow at the man before him.

He'd subconsciously known that the guy wasn't one of those dead freaks, but his appearance was just so startling that Rick had to ask.

Seriously, try walking up to a seven-foot tall guy who looks unhealthily pale in a post-apocalyptic world and see how well you do.

Rick slowly lowered the gun and gave the man an unsure nod, which he returned steadily. His unusually calm facade was unnerving, and the Sheriff's deputy held onto the bag over his shoulder a little tighter.

"What's the situation here?" Chief asked. "Where am I?"

"Well, currently, you're on the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia. As for the situation..." Rick said, his voice dropping steadily lower. "I'm honestly not sure myself. Where'd you come from, by the way?"

"A couple hundred meters north of here," he replied, pointing in the direction. "Apparently, I fell out of a tree and woke up with a zombie next to me."

Rick almost fell off his horse.

"You met one of those things?" he asked, his voice rising several octaves. The Chief nodded yes. "And you're still alive? You weren't bitten?"

"Obviously."

Rick floundered slightly as his mind tried to comprehend the ridiculousness of the situation. "And you fell out of a tree?"

"Out of it or through it, take your pick."

"But, that's... you don't even have any weapons on you!"

The Chief raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. "Don't need any for those things. They're easy to kill if you know how."

At that, Rick's face soured. '_Yeah, if you're a fucking seven-foot tall hunk of muscle that can bend steel with your bare hands,'_ he thought sarcastically.

He would gradually learn that that statement wasn't far from the truth.

"I told you who I am, shouldn't you return the favor?" Chief's voice broke him out of his stupor.

"Um... yeah, my name is Rick Grimes, Sheriff's deputy. And let me tell you, man, if I hadn't woke up in a hospital a couple of days ago, I probably wouldn't believe your story."

Chief gave a short nod of acknowledgment. "Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Well, I'm going to Atlanta to try to find some leads as to where my family went. I heard there was some big camp in Atlanta with food and shelter."

The Spartan looked at the city and raised an eyebrow. "That's not very likely, but it's better than nothing. Would you mind if I went with you?"

Rick looked at him in surprise. "Do you think you can keep up? I've got a horse."

"And I've got legs." When the deputy looked at him skeptically, he just gave him a look. "I can outrun any of those things easily, I'll be fine."

"If you say so," Rick said doubtfully, but nudged the horse around to keep walking towards Atlanta. After a second, the Spartan followed, easily keeping up with the horse due to his longer strides.

As they passed through the city borders, the Master Chief tried to focus on both the city around them and Rick's poor attempts at smalltalk.

"So, you Army or something?" he asked.

"Or something."

"Okay, uh... where are you from?"

"Elysium City."

"... is that far from here?"

"Reasonably."

Rick shook his head. Getting information out of this guy was harder than moving a house.

As they passed between the first two buildings, the Spartan couldn't help but marvel at how antiquated everything looked. The buildings looked like they were made out of ordinary concrete, steel and glass. Those hadn't been used in buildings in nearly four centuries. And the cars, despite being ancient designs, still looked like they ran on fossil fuels.

His first assumption was that this was a military test, but he immediately discarded that idea. That thing he ran into used to be human, and clearly wasn't faking it. He'd seen real rotting flesh, crushed real bones, and snapped a real neck- he'd done it plenty of times before. ONI wouldn't casually throw away a life like that just to test him, especially since they knew who he was.

And it would hardly be like the UNSC to throw him into a test so soon after Requiem.

His heart ached a little at the reminder of the accursed Forerunner construct.

Shaking his head to clear it of distracting thoughts, he resumed looking around at their surroundings. They passed by several empty vehicles, mostly cars, but the last one caused the Spartan's eyes to widen slightly.

"An M1A2 Abrams Tank? What is this antique doing here?"

Rick reared his horse to a stop and raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean, antique? This stuff is practically brand new."

Chief looked at him skeptically. "I haven't seen one of these since I entered the military. These were aged out of service years ago."

Rick was about to answer, but before he could, they passed by a bus and the Spartan's head swiveled around at the two corpses sitting in the seats. "Two dead guys, 3 o'clock," he muttered, and Rick turned and saw them as well.

The horse shied away and snorted from the bus as the two corpses slowly got up and started to follow them. Both the horse and the Spartan picked up the pace a little as Rick tried to assuage the horse's fears.

"Don't worry, nothing we can't outrun," he muttered. He looked over at Master Chief, who had a frown of concentration on his face. "What is it?"

"Do you hear that?"

Rick looked up and strained his ears, wondering what the strange guy was talking about. Then he heard it.

"It sounds like a helicopter!" the deputy said, sounding excited, and John looked up at a nearby building to see an indistinct shape reflected in the glass.

"Maybe, but..." he was interrupted as Rick clapped his heels to the horse's sides and took off down the street to try to get a better look. "Grimes, wait!"

But Rick didn't, instead galloping forward. The Spartan looked over his shoulder and saw more and more of the corpses shambling forward. At his shout, they turned their heads, beckoned by his voice. _They're drawn to noise._

He looked back at Rick and his eyes widened. He had wheeled the horse around and was now galloping back, followed by a veritable horde of corpses.

"Grimes, get off the horse!" he said loudly, but the deputy didn't and just galloped past him. He turned around and ran after the horse with a muttered curse, easily able to outrun the shambling corpses behind him. Unfortunately, Rick had managed to run into the _other_ horde of zombies following them, and the Spartan almost rolled his eyes.

Civilians. So undisciplined.

He watched as the horse reared, throwing Rick off it's back, before being dragged down by the monsters. The bag of guns had fallen off Rick's shoulder into the street while the zombies descended upon the horse with gusto.

The world slowed down as he closed his eyes and entered the state dubbed by Kelly as Spartan Time.

_'Options._

_Buildings on both sides. No way to get through them without leaving Rick behind._

_Zombies on both sides. No way to get through them without leaving Rick behind._

_Zombies near Rick Grimes; distracted by horse._

_Bag of guns; accessible. Potentially useful. Saving not required, but recommended._

_Rick Grimes; s__till alive. U__ndisciplined idiot. Saving not required, but recommended._

_M1A2 Abrams; potentially secure. Hatch on top and bottom._

_Plan: g__et guns, get Rick Grimes under Abrams, distract zombies from Rick Grimes, go on top of Abrams, wait until Rick Grimes secure, __go into Abrams, __wait until zombies disperse, make run for it.'_

His eyes snapped open.

Sprinting forward, the Spartan slammed a fist into the head of one of the monsters near Rick, pulping its skull and brain. He picked up the now permanently deceased corpse and threw it at another group of the zombies, knocking them over and buying him a few seconds.

He reached down and pulled the bag full of guns up and swung it around, smashing a few more zombies away. A few boxes of rounds and one small black device fell out through the unzipped top, but he didn't pay them much attention as he pulled Rick to his feet.

"Get underneath the tank," he growled into the deputy's ear. "There's a hatch below, I'll go above and distract them. Move!"

Rick gave him a fearful look, but he nodded and dropped down, crawling underneath the tank.

He threw a look over his shoulder. Most of the horse had been ripped into pieces, but more and more corpses were coming towards him. He climbed to the top of the tank in two strides and kicked one of the zombies in the chest, shattering it's ribcage and sending it back into the horde. He dropped the bag down the hatch, planted his feet and began to throw punches at any corpse that got close.

"Grimes, are you secure?" he asked loudly, throwing another skull-splitting punch.

"Yeah, yeah I'm- ah!" Ricks call was interrupted as he gave a panicked cry. Before the Spartan could ask what was wrong, a gunshot rang out and he felt a searing pain in his leg. He ignored the pain and pushed a zombie off the tank, then took a look at himself. The bullet had grazed the back of his right calf, which was bleeding. Luckily, it hadn't torn the muscle or the tendon, just broken the skin. He looked back up at another corpse coming toward him and frowned.

Most of the zombies were still focused on the horse, since it was an easier meal, but many more from all around had been drawn by the gunshot. He seized the last zombie by the hair and pulled it's head down, while bringing his knee up, driving a knee shaped dent in it's face. He seized it by the foot and swung it around above his head, knocking a dozen zombies off the tank, before throwing it back into the horde.

He dropped down into the tank, managing to squeeze in despite his massive frame, and came face to face with a corpse and a pale-faced Rick Grimes. Pulling the hatch closed behind him, he made sure that the corpse was really dead and that the both the hatches were sealed. Then he turned around and looked at the deputy, who's ears were still ringing from the gunshot. Rick slowly focused on the stern-faced man in front of him, and felt himself rooted in place by the flinty stare.

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" the Spartan asked, and Rick just stared at him confusedly. "Don't you know that these things are attracted to sound? You may have drawn every one in the city with that gunshot." The Chief's voice was quiet, but somehow that just made it all the more frightening. He was about to say more, but before he could, the radio in the tank crackled to life.

_"Hey, you. Yeah, you two in the tank. Having fun in there?"_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Third Chapter, hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or the Walking Dead.

* * *

"_Hey, you. Yeah, you two in the tank. Having fun in there?_"

Master Chief's head snapped towards the sound of someone's voice, and saw another antiquated device.

A radio. A fucking radio.

"God, is everything here old?" he muttered, but picked up the receiver anyway. "Who is this? Identify yourself."

"_Are you guys alive in there?_"_  
_

"What do you think?"

"_Um... I'll say yes._"

"You'd be correct. Where are you right now?"

"_I'm in the alley about 50 yards to the right of the tank. Do you guys have any weapons or ammo?_"

"Bag of guns, and at least a few boxes of rounds, but we won't be using them."

_"What? Why?_"

"These things are drawn to noise, so guns are not advisable. Are they still focusing on the horse?"

"_There's one still on the tank, but y__eah, it's like a feeding frenzy out there!"_

"Then we'll use that to our advantage. See you in the next five minutes, Chief out," he said, hanging up the receiver and turning to Rick, who had broken out into a cold sweat. "Grimes."

The sheriff's deputy looked up at the massive man in front of him, who he noticed looked cramped in the tank. "Huh?"

The Spartan fixed him with a heavy stare. "Did you know about how these things were drawn to sound?"

"... you know, we call them walkers, in case you were wondering."

"I _wasn't_ wondering, now answer the question."

"... yeah, I did."

He looked at Rick Grimes, his brown eyes cold and flinty. "And you still fired a gun in the middle of a walker-infested city?" He held the stare for a few more seconds, to make sure that Rick had gotten the message, then put a hand on the deputy's shoulder. "If you're going to survive, you're going to have to be _smart_. Think before you act, only use guns as a last resort. And if I tell you to do something, you do it, without question, without complaint. Because when it comes to surviving, there's no one who knows how better than me. Do you understand?"

Rick looked at him for a few seconds, then said, "Why not use guns? We have plenty."

"Same reason I won't drive this tank. Too much noise draws walkers," he said, turning towards the hatch. "What weapons did you find in here?"

"Beretta with fifteen rounds in the clip and..." Rick trailed off.

"And what?"

"I found this," he said, holding up a grenade.

Chief's eyes widened slightly, and he took it out of Rick's hand and put is securely in the bag of guns. He also took the Beretta and stuck in the waistband of his fatigues before giving the deputy another look. "This is the plan. I lead, you stay close to me and cover my back. No shooting unless you have walkers literally breathing down your neck. Are you ready?" He watched as Rick took a deep breath to center himself, then gave him a nod. "Then stay close to me. It's your best chance for survival."

Then he grabbed a shovel hanging from a rack in the tank and opened the hatch.

Chief moved the bag ahead of himself and clambered out of the tank. Seeing one walker coming towards him, he swung the shovel at it, cutting it's head clean in two. He reached back into the hatch and Rick grasped his hand.

The Spartan pulled him out of the tank, took the bag of guns and jumped off, followed quickly by Rick, though his landing was much less steady. When the deputy was on his feet again, they began to move. Any walker that got close was either decapitated by the shovel or pushed back with well placed kicks while the two men made their way to the alley where the mystery person was waiting.

They got to the entrance of the alley with a chain link fence and Chief raised his fist as a small Asian kid showed his face. "Whoa, I'm not them!" he yelled. "C'mon!"

The Spartan put the bag of guns into Rick's hands and shoved him after the kid. He turned around to kick one walker back into it's group then forced the chain link fence closed. Grabbing hold of a nearby dumpster, he pushed it in the way, which would save them some time.

As he turned around, he saw the kid and Rick beginning to climb a ladder up the fire escape. But past them was _another_ group of walkers coming from the other side of the alley. Running forward past the ladder, he dropped his shovel, grabbed hold of a garbage bin and held it out in front of him, using it as a battering ram. He slammed into the group of walkers and pushed them back.

"Chief, what are you doing?" Rick shouted after him and he glanced back to see them not even climbing, just hanging there watching him with something akin to awe.

"Keep climbing, I'll be fine!" he growled and dug his heels into the ground as more and more walkers pushed forward against the garbage bin. Slowly, he began to slide back while pale hands grabbed at his clothes and body, trying to reach him.

The Spartan face contorted and his muscles bulged as he stepped forward, using most of his strength to force the packed horde of almost a dozen walkers away. With one final shove, he let go of the bin, spun around and began climbing up the ladder towards the stunned pair at the top.

"Dude, are you using steroids?" the Asian kid asked.

"No."

He just blinked, then looked at Rick. "You the new Sheriff? Come riding in to clean up the town?"

"Wasn't my intention..."

"Yeah, whatever, yee-hah. You're still a dumbass."

Chief tried to block out their muttering while looking down at the walkers. The first group had managed to force their way past the chain link fence and were gathering next to the second group, one of which seemed to be trying to climb the ladder. But as he looked down, he realized that it couldn't. _It's instinctively looking for something to grab onto that will bring it closer to it's prey.__  
_

Meanwhile, the deputy stuck his hand out to the Asian kid. "I'm Rick. Thanks."

"Glenn. You're welcome," the kid said after a second, taking the hand and shaking it. He turned to the Chief. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Master Chief," the Spartan said. "And I'm not happy."

"Why not?"

"I lost my shovel."

The two civilians blinked at him as he looked down into the horde of walkers. Then Rick patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Um... I'm sure you'll get another one."

Chief just looked at him flatly for a second, then turned to Glenn. "I assume you have somewhere we can go?"

"Yeah," he replied, and they all glanced up at the ladder that led all the way up to the top of the building, at least two stories up. "Bright side? It'll be the fall that kills us. I'm a glass half full kind of guy."

"I'll catch you if you fall," Chief grunted, pulling the bag of guns out of Rick's hands and slinging it over his shoulder. "Start climbing."

They didn't argue. A minute later, they all walked across the roof of the building, moving over a few alleyways.

"You the one that barricaded the alley?" Rick asked.

"Somebody did," Glenn replied. "I guess when the city got overrun, whoever did it was thinking that not many geeks could get through."

"Didn't work well," Chief said idly. He didn't trust Glenn yet, so his eyes swung from side to side looking around for any possible traps.

"Why'd you stick your neck out for us back there?" Rick asked.

"Call it foolish, naive hope, that if I'm ever that far up shit-creek, somebody might do the same for me," he replied, as they came to a small hatch which Glenn dropped his backpack down, then looked back at Rick. "Guess it means I'm an even bigger dumbass than you."

They all climbed down, Glenn leading, Rick in the middle with the bag of guns and Chief in the back, where he could see both of them.

Glenn pulled another radio out of his backpack as they moved down a flight of stairs. "I'm back! Got two guests, plus four geeks in the alley!" he said into the radio.

They stopped as they came to the alley in question and saw a pair of walkers, who turned towards them with low groans. Chief pushed past the two men who had frozen on the stairs and grabbed one walker by the throat, then the other.

He pulled them apart, then smashed their heads together.

Glenn and Rick blanched as they saw the mass of bone and brain matter that used to be two individual skulls. Before they could even comment, the door on the other side of the alley burst open and two men wearing biker helmets and hockey pads entered the alley, baseball bats raised.

Chief's arm shot up, his hand gripping the Beretta as he pointed it at the new arrivals, who stopped moving forward and held up their hands. "Whoa, man! Relax!" one said loudly, while the other just nodded fervently.

"Glenn, are these two with you?" Chief asked.

"Yeah, they're cool! Don't shoot 'em, please!"

The Spartan just looked at them for a few seconds before lowering the gun and tucking it back into his fatigues. "All of you inside, now. I'll take care of these two." He was referring to the other walkers who had turned around at the sound of their voices and were shuffling forward.

Moving forward, he delivered an uppercut to the first, sending thirty-two teeth into it's brain, while he gave a solid kick to the second's abdomen, which promptly tried to vomit out everything in what was left of it's stomach.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the group had gotten inside the building. He raised his foot and dropped it down onto the walker's skull, before turning around and jogging back to the door.

The scene that greeted him as he opened it was not one that he cared to see.

"We're dead because of this asshole!" a blond woman spoke loudly, pointing a gun at Rick.

"C'mon Andrea, just let it go!" said another of the group, who was taking off his hockey pads and looking at the woman with trepidation in his eyes.

Chief sighed. He didn't have time for this.

Taking a step forward, most of the group's eyes snapped over to him.

"Stay back or I blow his face off!" the blond warned.

He took another step forward. The gun was aimed at him now.

"I said stay back!"

Another step. He was getting close.

The gun clicked in the blond's hand as she pulled the trigger. Before the surprise could even register, he'd snatched the gun out of her hands and popped out the clip, looking down at the woman with a frown. The group gave a collective gulp, as their main weapon was now in the hands of a total stranger that looked like he could break them all in half with one hand.

"There are three things you need to know if you're firing a gun and expecting to survive," the Spartan said, his voice deadly calm. "One, make sure that the gun is loaded."

He popped the clip back into the weapon and pulled back the slide.

"Two, make sure that the safety is off."

He clicked a small button. The light on the side of the weapon turned red.

"And three..." he said, as he held out the gun handle first, which Andrea took hesitantly. He looked her in the eyes as his own flashed dangerously. "Don't, _ever_, point the gun at me."_  
_

He reached down and took the bag of guns off the floor where it had dropped and slung it over his shoulder, then walked past the rest of the group deeper into the building.

Coming to a large room with dozens of racks of clothes strung about, he saw a group of walkers outside a double-set of glass doors, banging and groaning as they tried to get to where their prey was located.

The Spartan dropped the bag on the floor and crossed his arms.

"Now," he said quietly. "How the hell am I going to get us out of this mess?"

* * *

Third Chapter done! Hope you lot enjoyed!


End file.
